Aya
by Crazyfrog's nephew
Summary: When Aya is born, her village is overjoyed, expecting a shining baby practically brimming with magic. What they find is is a dud,the only elf ever to be born without magic. She is ridiculed by her village, and runs away as soon as she can fend for herself. Which is how she meets Eragon. But she has more talent than she knows...
1. An Elf Without Magic

**A/N: Hello and welcome to my 3****rd**** fanfiction. I'm hoping that this one is better than the others. Please review. Whether this story tastes like faelnirv or dragon dung, I'd like to know. Over and Out**

**Aya**

Chapter One: An Elf without Magic

_Vasera: 10 years earlier. The village rejoices, for an elf child is born. Sunlight streams in through the tree house window, illuminating the baby. Friends and family crowd the crib, cooing and singing. As gentle hands pick her up, something different is noticed. The child lacks the pale glow, the teardrop-shaped face of most children. "_It is a trick of the light," _they tell themselves._ "All is well." _But alas, it is not so._

Aya sat on the log wondering for the zillionth time why it had to be like this. She threw the stone she had been palming into a puddle below, making a disappointingly small splash. Then, concentrating so hard she almost shook, she spoke the word for pull in the ancient language. No dice. Countless had tried, but none could teach her magic. She just didn't have it in her. The weather seemed to match her mood. Foggy, dim, and dank, everything slumped.

Then, the footsteps sounded in the distance. Aya scrambled to hide, and clumsily fell backwards off the log. A voice called out, "Oh, Miss Human, is that you? Why don't you come and play, Round Ears?" Sniggers. Suddenly, she was lifted into the air by her shirt. She flailed around desperately, until her foot hit flesh a thump. Her antagonist fell backwards, then slowly stood up. "Little Lead Face has a temper, doesn't she? She must be taught a lesson." said Jamr.

Then he started to sing. Aya sprung up and ran, but a root snagged her foot and started dragging her back. She started pounding on it, but to no avail. When she was by the log again, a branch arched over her neck and tightened. As she wiggled to get free, she spoke between clenched teeth, "My ears…are not…round!" Jamr curled his lower lip in mock sadness. "Aww, poor Aya must have been looking for something and got stuck. I wonder how long 'till her mommy and daddy get here?" He laughed and walked away, leaving Aya thinking for the zillion and first time,_ Why does it have to be like this? Why?_


	2. Outcast

**A/N: Hi! I'm back! Nothing spurs an author to continue like good reviews (hint, hint). Thank you Guest (such a creative name!), diggerbutton, Konon406, and Tamerlain85. ARGH! I FORGOT THE STUPID DISCLAIMER! Obviously I don't own Eragon, but anyway.** I do not claim to own the Inheritance Cycle, or any character, event, or setting contained in the series. Please don't sue.

Chapter 2: Outcast

"Okay, now. Focus, and as hard as you can." Aya focused so hard she trembled. "Now center your energy," said her father. They were sitting on her mattress on her tree house for the umpteenth time. A twig lay on the floor, unbearably motionless. "Repeat after me, but singing." He spoke words of the ancient language, and she sung them, in the most melodic voice she could muster. She sang and sang, but the stick would not stir. Finally, Aya gave up, out of breath. Her father sighed and put his head in his hands. They lay there, not moving. "What are we going to do with you?"

Suddenly, he sat up. "Can't you just try harder!? Do you know what I've been through? For ten years, I've been ashamed, avoided! All this time, there has been a dark shadow on me! All because you can't…fit…in!" Aya's father, her guardian throughout her life, shook with anger. Then his features changed, realizing what he'd just done. It was too late. Tears shone on Aya's blue eyes, spilling onto her bed.

She started to run.

"Aya, wait! I didn't…" But she didn't stop. All the years, all the pain, turned into pure energy. Down the stairs, through the hallway, out the door. Into the forest, speeding past everything. The world came into sharp clarity, bushes leaning out toward her. Trees giving her seemingly perfect paths through the wilderness. She ran. And ran. And ran. Minutes blended into hours, but she didn't stop. She couldn't. The energy came directly from her core. She ran from the place where she had endured her life, her ridicule, her shame.

At last, she dropped next to a tree, not breathing hard at all. Around was the same thing: trees and bushes forming their medley of red, orange, and gray. How carefree they were, how beautiful. She sat considering them for a while. Finally she got up and started toward home. But was that the way home? No, it was that way. Or maybe that. She was lost. Completely, utterly lost.

"Well, whatever way I go, I'll eventually reach civilization." So she started off. She walked, and walked, and walked, and walked. Her feet grew sore and the light grew dim. Finally, she sat down and started making a bed of leaves. _Funny,_ she thought. _My feet never wore out when I was running._ Aya got under the leaf bed and tried to go to sleep, rubbing her pointed ears the whole time.

000 … 000 … 000

Aya stumbled through the under growth, bleary from exhaustion and thirst. It had been three days since she had run away, and only some berry bushes and occasional stream were her sustenance. The plants around seemed to be mocking her, flourishing easily. She went on and on. Suddenly, a thought occurred to her. For the past several minutes her feet didn't seem to sink into the fallen leaves as much. She saw that she was on a path. Then, ahead, voices. Aya collapsed. Soothing and gentle hands cradled her. She felt happy inside. Then, everything turned to white.

;)


	3. Found

**A/N: Hi again! Thanks for the reviews. I'll try to update sooner and lengthen the chapters. And to clear things up, this takes place in the end of Brsingr right now, but will be in Inheritance later.**

**Chapter III: Found**

White.

Such a pleasant color. Away from pain. Away from sadness. Away from shame.

Beige.

Why is that there? It's rather ugly and random. Kind of like…

Fabric. Aya rolled over and sat up. Big mistake. It was like a little elf was inside her head, hitting the inside of her skull with a spike. She lay back down and waited for it to go away. And waited. Finally a man came inside the tent.

"Ah! You're finally awake. Here, have some water."

She slowly sat up, took the bowl from his out-stretched hand, and drank. The water was sweet and refreshing, though maybe that was just her parched throat's imagination.

"Who are you?" she asked.

Suddenly, she didn't feel like hearing the answer. She felt immensely tired, as if her very bones were dragging her back down onto the bed.

"That's right, now just..." But the rest was lost on her.

She awoke to the sound of a very strange bird. It called like _k-k-k-kow, k-k-k-kow_. She had never heard it before. She must be far away from home. Far away…

Then it all came back in a flash. The taunts, the misery, running away, her father….Aya sat up, lifted herself off the mattress, and ventured outside.

Everything overwhelmed her. Soldiers chatted and suited up in armor. The smells of food, sweat, excitement, and tension wafted through the air. Beige tents were everywhere, covering the hill they were on. In the distance mammoth buildings loomed. The man she had seen in her tent walked over.

"Ah! You're up again. And just in time too; we're about to go for Feinster." Suddenly he paused, as if hearing something. Then he snapped out of it.

'The name is Eragon. What's yours?"

"Aya," said she. She had a shipload of questions all clamming for attention, but a sudden wave of hunger came over her, As if a creature started gnawing at her stomach from within. "Grælen," the elf croaked out.

"Graelen? What's Graelen?"

Aya thought back to her English lessons. "Food."

"Of course, you must be ravenous. Right this way. The food here is pretty good. Not like the El…" As he talked, she looked around. All around were weapons, being made and distributed. Livestock wandered aimlessly by their feet. A group of mysterious people chanted in low voices, and stared at her as she passed. _How strange I must look. A child elf wearing Elvin clothes, surrounded by grown warriors. No wonder I attract attention._

"…so you obviously don't have to eat any of that. Here we are!" Eragon walked inside a long tent filled with idle soldiers as they gossiped and ate. He got a loaf of bread and an apple from the chef and handed them to Aya. She began wolfing the food down, finally relieving the gnawing creature in her stomach. When she finished, a familiar feeling started growing.

"Wait a minute, You're Eragon! THE Eragon! The village elder told me about you! You're a Dragon Riderandyou'regonnakillGalbatorixandsave usallandyoukilledashadeandyo u'rewiththeVardenandthisIStheV ardenandI'mactuallyhereandthisisall CRAZY!"

She drew a big breath, and realized that everybody was looking at her. She had lapsed back into Elvish. Despite the stares, she asked (in English) "Where is Saphira?"

"Outside camp. You wanna go see her?"

Just then, shouts were heard and the voices outside doubled. "Never mind, I have to go suit up. I'll see you after the battle."

Aya decided that there was nothing left to do here, so she wandered outside. The camp was certainly interesting. The atmosphere had changed, and tension filled the air. She was still trying to process all that had happened. She was with the Varden. The Varden! Everybody was preparing or prepared for the battle. A big, brawny soldier armored from head to toe pushed her out of his way. "Watch it!" he barked. Maybe it was best if she stayed out of the way.

She moved over to a corner, sat down, and waited. Finally, a trumpet sounded and everyone lined up in a formation. There were foot soldiers in the front, archers behind them, then wizards and sorcerers, then more soldiers behind carrying a battering ram. At the head of it all was Eragon and Saphira, armor flashing in the bright sunlight. It was all very orderly and impressive.

At the sound of another trumpet, they began marching. She watched them march until they looked like ants in the distance, striding toward the hive of buildings. The only difference was that they were attacking this hive.

She got up and wandered around, taking in her surroundings. The tents were of varying sizes, from barely big enough for a bed to a grand place that must be for important meetings. She pretended that she was a soldier, marching toward an imaginary enemy. A tree by the edge of her camp was her target, and she made for it as if to attack, when something caught her eye. She thought she saw a flash of back among the trees. And then another, and another. She retreated behind a tent, and looked back at the trees. There were people clad completely in black cloth coming toward the camp, sliding silently through the trees.

This game had just gotten very real.


	4. The Dream

**A/N: megablarg! My life is so hectic! Again, it's been a gazillion years since I last updated and I am a liar. There also might be some plotline mistakes, as I didn't have Brsingr with me when I wrote this. Sorry. As always, tell me how to improve.**

Chapter the Fourth: The Dream

Aya had to do something. Her legs screamed at her to run, but she couldn't. Slowly, stealthily, the men neared the camp, dodging behind trees and bushes. She knew that nobody but the cooks and blacksmiths were in the encampment, and they were in no shape to fight.

Finally, her legs broke their invisible bonds. She ran behind a nearby tent, but no farther. Aya knew that the black clothed antagonists had to be dangerous. Aya knew that if she stayed were she was, she would almost certainly die. And yet she crouched behind that tent.

Suddenly the elf dashed to a nearby stash of weaponry. She grabbed a sword that was much too heavy for her. The world around her became sharp and clear. She could see each individual stitch in every tent around. Somehow the sword became as light as a juniper branch in her grasp. Aya sprinted back to the forest, and everything was a blur from there.

Afterward, she could recall a lot of movement. The green and black and red around whirled together, as if in a gigantic mixing pot. Silver glinted and eyes widened. No sound could be heard around her, as if she had gone completely deaf. Then, Aya remembered no more.

She awoke to the sound of tired feet and voices. The sky had darkened considerably. She groggily got to her feet and looked around. The soldiers were back, and very fatigued by the looks of it. Some were wounded, and more had blood on their tunics, though whose it was couldn't be told. Most, however, had triumphant looks on their faces. In the distance, smoke came from the newly liberated city

She wandered back to her tent, and found Eragon there taking of his heavy chain mail armor. He looked tired and sad but mostly unharmed.

"Good news: we won." He smiled. "In no small part because of the elves, I might add."

Then the smile dropped of his face like an anvil off a second story window. All of a sudden Aya recalled the dream she had. _Just a dream, _she thought. _No more._

"I'll tell you what. After I can get this accursed armor off, we can go see Saphira! How would you like that?"

She nodded her head vigorously. "Klenr!" Then she blushed and looked down. "Er… I mean…"

At that moment the juvenile elf saw it on the back of her hand.

A drop of blood that wasn't hers.

OOOOO…..OOOOO…OOOOO

_It could be anything_, she told herself as she walked._ A small cut from a branch, a trick of the sunset, a drop of apple juice from the one she had eaten earlier._ Apple juice is amber. _Really?_ She thought. Yes. _Then why is the outside red? _That's just the peel. _Oh._ (apples are scarce in Du Weldenvarden, so she had to think to past experiences).  
"Here we are! There's Saphira," called Eragon up ahead. Aya looked up. There, scales glittering in the dying light, was the largest being she had ever seen. The dragon was huge, with gigantic wings and fierce teeth. Like her name, she looked like a gigantic sapphire. Aya was awestruck. Saphira and Eragon looked at each other for some moments, then turned to their company. Suddenly the ten year old felt very small indeed.

_What is your name, Child of Pointed Ears? _She was taken completely aback. There was a voice…_in her head._ How was that possible?

"Er...Um… Aya."

_Welcome, Aya. Eragon has told me about you. I hope you are feeling alright after your ordeal?_

"I am, thank you."

_As soon as we can, we will get you back home. Until then, you will march with us._

Home. She hadn't realized that she had to go back home. Sooner or later, she would have to face her father. Until then, she would remain with the Varden.

_Until then._


	5. Fortunes, Failures and Cats

Chapter the Fifth: Fortunes and Failures

And so the days passed. Aya marched with the Varden without much incident. They marched and marched and marched, drinking from the Jiet River and hiking over the dunes. When she could march no longer Eragon carried her until they made camp. Then in the morning they would march again. In the evenings Arya would give her English lessons. It was exhausting, but it kept her mind off things.

One of the days Aya was wandering aimlessly around camp when a thought occurred to her. It probably wouldn't work, but then again, it could. It was worth a try.

Unbeknownst to her, Angela peered at the elf child as she debated with herself.

She strode to Eragon's tent and knocked on the flap, too late to realize that it would make no sound. Embarrassed, she called out, "Eragon?"

"Come in."

Lifting the flap, she padded in. The Rider was sitting on his bed, muttering.

"Um, can I ask you a favor?"

"Shoot," he said.

"Shoot what?" Confused, Aya looked around for a bow or something similar. She didn't see anything.

Eragon laughed. "Go ahead, tell me.

"Well, you see, I can't really- I can't use magic.

"Really? Oh that's terrible." He said, giving her the same sympathetic look she got from most adults.

"So- err, I was wondering if you could, um, teach me? Never mind, it's silly."

"No, that's a good idea. I may be able to help. I don't know how to sing the words like the elves, but I do It like this. Stenr, kausta!"

A rock on the floor shot to his hand, and he let it roll back to the floor. "You try."

Aya sat on the bed and concentrated. "Stenr, kausta!" The rock remained motionless. "Kausta! Risa! Flauga! Ganga!" Nothing.

"Are you centering your energy? Are you putting emotion in your voice? Are you envisioning the result?"

"Yes, yes, and yes. I knew it was silly."

"Don't feel bad. Maybe you're just a late bloomer." He sounded optimistic, but inside he knew that there wasn't much he could say in consolation. As Aya looked down, she saw Eragon's ring, Aren. It looked very pretty.

"Where did you get that ring?"

"Oh, this? It was a gift from a friend. It stores energy."

"Stores energy? How does it do that?"

"Before I go to sleep I put energy in it. Then I can use it in battle. Only gems can hold a lot of energy. Other objects lose it or explode."

"Explode?! Wow. That's strange."

"I need to go see Saphira. I'll see you later."

She exited the tent and continued to wander. She was dismayed. If Eragon couldn't help her, nobody could. She would have to learn to live with it. If most humans went their lives without casting spells, so could she.

Lost in thought, Aya stumbled into a tent, almost knocking it down. She whirled around and came face to face with an odd-looking woman. She had green, piercing eyes and curly hair. Something about her didn't seem… worldly.

"Choices make you who you are. But the more you do, the greater the danger. If you attempt the greatest of all, you will certainly perish."

At that, she was gone, leaving a confused, curious, and frightened little girl in her wake.

000…..000…..…..000

The ten-year-old turned the strange words over in her head, poking them, prodding them, trying to make heads or tails of the prophecy. It was like telling a waterfall to be still and start flowing backwards. Eragon and all the other soldiers were at war in Belatona. She hoped, for their sake, that they succeded. She hoped… mew.

_Mew?! Where did that come from?_

Then it occurred to her that she had been so absorbed by her own thoughts that she had forgotten the real world. Looking around, Aya spotted a silverish blur to her right. It had pale green eyes and a black tail. It was dappled with white and black along its coat, and looked at her hopefully. The cat seemed to take an instant liking to her, and curled up in her lap, breathing quickly. Looking up, she could see paw prints leading to a large dust cloud in the center of Belatona.

It had obviously fled, terrified, from the battle. _It. This cat needs a name. But what?_ Aya's mind was blank.

Pondering, she looked at the cat. Examined how she nuzzled her hand and mewed. _A name, a name._

In the corner of her mind, a little dandelion seed floated. She pursued it, wondering. It grew, and a name popped into her head.

"Remira."

The cat shuddered violently, and pressed her claws in Aya's thigh. She started, and it streaked away into the dunes.

"Dranet!" She cursed. Then she covered her mouth in embarrasment, jumped up, and chased after her new pet.


	6. A Secret is Revealed

Chapter 6: A Secret is Revealed

"Kill him!" The robed man shouted, sounding more frightened then lordly. "Whosoever kills him shall have a third of my treasure!"

Frustrated, Eragon tore Brisingr from its sheath and declared its name. Flames sprang up around the blade. Then the Rider lowered his gaze toward the soldiers. "Move." He growled.

They hesitated slightly, then turned tail and fled.

Hunching his shoulders, Eragon bulled past the double doors that guarded the entrance to the main hall. He dashed through a long, wide chamber and ran full tilt into the portcullis the blocked the way to Roran's position when the keep's wall fell.

The iron grating bent as Eragon slammed into it, but not enough to break the metal.

He staggered back a step.

That was when he heard shouts and screams coming from outside the majestic keep. The ground itself seemed to shake, and men cried out in agony. A dilemma was definitely occurring outside. He had to investigate- but that would mean abandoning Roran, who was trapped in the wall, possibly dead.

He set his face in grim determination. His cousin could wait. The attack on Belatona was more important. Eragon sprinted back the way he had come. As he stepped out of the doors and into the sunlight, the sea of reinforcement soldiers crushed his last resolve like a juniper berry under a massive boot.

Algaesia needed a miracle.

000…..000…...000

Once again, Aya was running. But this time, instead of running away, she was pursuing her silver quarry. It was amazing how felines could streak across the ground so easily and so quickly as to be a blur. Aya was quickly reaching the point of exhaustion.

As she felt her strength finally coming to a halt, a burst of energy came from nowhere at all. Clarity hit every speck of sand like an impossible wave washing over the desert. The child began to gain on her pet.

Aya had been so intent on catching Remira that she didn't notice the mass of brown looming before her.

Then, the cat entered the ocean and disappeared from sight. She tailed Remira and bashed her way through the crowd. A soldier raised his sword to strike her down, blocking out the sun. He seemed to move ridiculously slowly.

Instinctively, Aya batted his hand away as one might slap a mosquito. The pummel of his sword escaped his grasp, and she caught it as it spun through the air. She kicked him in the stomach and he fell back, stunned completely. Out of the corner of her eye Aya saw a flash of silver escape between two men's legs.

The other soldiers noticed the commotion and advanced cockily. They didn't see her properly and thought her a dwarf used to surprise them. For many antagonists it was their last assumption.

000…000…000

Eragon slashed and hacked, as he never had before. Red pooled at his feet and collected on his boots. They came endlessly, without hesitation. Fighting them was like to decapitating a hydra: for every one you defeated, two more replaced them.

Even worse: some were magically without pain. Any wound not to the head had virtually no effect. He muttered the most energy-conserving killing words he knew constantly. At least the flames on his blade cauterized many wounds, as well as scorched normal men. Otherwise, the blood could have caused him to retch.

His wards slowly broke down, along with his energy. Eragon began to accumulate scratches along his body. He saw Roran swinging his hammer maniacally some hundred feet away.

Then Saphira reared up above him, scales glittering like gems. Her claws crushed some soldiers and her fire laid waste to more. As her massive maw snapped shut on enemies, additional people would never swing a sword again. Eragon jumped on her back, still slicing and cursing. She flew him to a more vital part of the battle.

As they flew, Eragon spotted a blurry moving figure in another part of the battle. A pile of bodies was behind the small shape. Suddenly, its face turned toward him. A face that he recognized.

"Aya?"

000…000…000

The child lost track of everything: time, weariness, victims. She just concentrated on getting out alive and finding Remira. Things lost their clarity and melted together. Numbness swallowed her whole. Swing. Swing. Push forward. Repeat. Everyone was so clumsy, slow, and awkward. She never suffered a scratch.

After what seemed like days but was actually only a matter of minutes, she emerged from the battlefield. Aya jogged for a bit, then collapsed. She rolled over, and saw Remira run past her.

"Remira, stop!"

Immediately, her cat froze completely in place. Nothing in it moved.

"Come here." She whispered. It padded over to her even though there was no possible way it could have heard her. Remira licked her hand gently.

There was no denying it this time. The guilt hit her like a crushing steel grip._ She had killed. She had ended a life. She had killed. _The words bounced around her empty skull, wounding her every time they struck. _She had killed. She had killed._

Her tears absorbed her so completely that she barely felt the men as they roughly shoved Aya into a sack. She just hugged Remira to her chest and poured her strength into the cat. Every reserve she had was donated to it.

As her eyes closed, she could just make out Remira transforming, growing much larger, and overtaking their captors.

000….…000…000

"This has extremely grave tidings. Galbatorix no longer wants Eragon alive. He just needs the Varden and its allies dead and gone completely. It's a miracle that we escaped with as many men as we did. Everyone will have to be constantly vigilant, especially Eragon. Eragon? Hello?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I wasn't listening. Has anyone seen Aya?"

They were sitting in the large meeting tent around an oval table. Blödhgarm and Angela's seats were vacant, as they had perished in battle.

"No, we have not. Why?"

**A/N: Next chapter will probably be the last. If anyone has tips on adding details to a story I'd love them. Besides this note, this chapter has exactly 1000 words. As always, thanks for reading. If you've read Harry Potter (Who hasn't?) and want to make yourself feel good by reading an awful fanfic, read my story Voldemort's Remorse: What Was Thought Impossible. If you've read Septimus Heap (Who has?) and want to read a semi-good fanfic, read my story Septimus Heap Book 7: Draine. Over and Out. **


	7. Freed

**A/N: This would have been published 3 weeks ago, but I was away from this computer the whole time. Thanks for all your support over the course of the story! Hope you like the ending.**

Chapter 7: Freed

As she awoke, the only thing she sensed was movement. The world was dark, and never stopped moving. It always kept going, in spite of pleas and cries from those who inhabited it. Moving… Moving…

Aya opened her eyes.

She was in a wooden carriage, her arms and feet in manacles. Outside came the sounds of tired feet and hooves. The enclosure was dimly lit by a floating lantern, but by the shadowy light she could see her cat, Remira, in a cage. He- or she, was looking straight at her. Again came the mental speech that still unsettled her.

_About time you awoke._

It was then that she realized that Remira had _spoken_. Aya also realized that it was larger now, with amber eyes instead of pale green.

_H-How can you talk? _She asked.

_You don't know? You made me as I am._

_I did?_

_Yes. When you gave me that much energy, I transformed and became a werecat. You also managed to discover my true name before I changed. By the way, I am, in fact, female._

_Wow. _She laid her head back on the floorboards. Now she had a werecat.

_You do not own me, Aya. Werecats are free spirits, always have been, always will be. But we can be friends. _

_I'd like that._

_Good. Now, can you get us out of this accursed place?_

Aya looked at her chains. They didn't seem to be breaking anytime soon. The hard steel was cold against her small wrists. The room was completely bare save for a door in the front.

At that moment, the movement ceased. The door opened, and revealed the silhouette of a man. He stepped out of the door frame, revealing cold, hard features and several scars.

"Who do you work for?"

"N-Nobody."

_Stay strong._

"I don't have time for this. We're almost at Uru'baen. Who do you work for?!" At that he cracked his whip at Aya, leaving a trail of blood across her arm. It was shallow but unbearably painful.

"Stop! Please! I don't work for the Varden. I just tagged along to get back to Du Weldenvarden."'

"Good." He sent another crack of his whip at her, but it seemed to move slower than possible. She caught it easily and wrenched it backward. The man's cruel features went into shock as he went flying towards Remira's cage. She grabbed him by his neck and put a claw up to his throat.

_LET. ME. OUT._

"Okay, okay! I will. Please let me go!" All of his earlier confidence was gone, and the driver started to choke up. He fumbled desperately with the keys on his belt, and jammed one of them into the cage lock.

_Good. Don't reach for that whip._

Then all Aya saw was a spray of blood from the man's neck.

_Remira! Did you really have to!_

_Yes. He planned to whip both of us back into submission._

At that she grew smaller and turned into a girl slightly larger than Aya with a calm countenance, white hair, and the same cat eyes. She turned the key in the lock and produced a clicking sound.

_I don't know what to do about your manacles._

_Now that I look at them, I don't think that'll be a problem. They didn't plan to arrest someone so small._

The elf wriggled her wrists and, with some difficulty, got free.

"We make a good team. Let's find the Varden again," said Aya.

000…000…000

He just had to understand. To understand, and see what he had done. Eragon's spell grew in strength, with the help of the hidden Eldunari. Galbatorix touched his forehead, puzzled and furious at the same time.

"What are you doing now, you witless fool?! You cannot hope to win! Swear yourself to me!"

They were in Galbatorix's citadel. Nasuasda was chained. Murtagh was wounded, by Eragon's hand. Arya was distracted with Shruikan. Elva was still frozen. Eragon's spell was the only hope for survival.

000…000…000

Finally. Aya and Remira arrived at the citadel doors, tired and bloodstained. It had been a hard fight to get there. The Varden had been losing the battle badly. Soldiers were pouring in from barracks all around, and the rebel troops had been badly depleted in the previous fight (So much so that they had gone directly to Uru'baen instead of capturing Dras Leona). Aya had to cut through the main body of Galbatorix's forces in order to reach the citadel. Somehow, she felt sure that Eragon was there. She was about to burst through the door when Remira stopped her.

_Wait. The way to Eragon is probably strewn with traps. How do we get in?_

_I think I know._ _Come on._

Then the ten-year-old sprinted around to the side of the enormous building, where the fight inside had weakened part of the wall. Summoning up her mysterious energy, she watched every brick come into sharp relief. Then she slammed her shoulder into the wall.

It shuddered, but didn't collapse, so she tried again. This time the wall caved in and she fell through to the ground in a shower of dust.

Her head snapped up, and she saw Eragon lying on the ground. She saw Galbatorix towering over him and clutching his helm. She saw the brick fly through the air, and land right on Eragon's wound. She saw him groan in agony, and saw Galbatorix's face flash into relief, then surprise, than terrible fury. She saw him, in his temporary break from the throbbing pain, thrust his sword into Eragon's chest. She saw what nobody deserves to see: a kind friend die. The flow of the spell was dammed, and the evil king's suffering ended.

In that moment, she knew what was to be done. Galbatorix, reveling in his victory, suddenly felt a delicious rush of energy. He thought it to be adrenaline, but it kept coming. He didn't care where it came from, all he knew was that it felt wonderful.

His wounds healed, and he stood up straighter. Now Galbatorix could go anywhere, do anything. No annoying gnats like the Varden could harm him. He was practically invincible.

At some point, he realized that it was too much.

The torrent of energy pushed at his very being. His heart pounded, his skin itched. Pleasure immediately turned into torture. He let loose a crazed scream in desperation. But it didn't stop.

Then, Algaesia's jailor burst.

Watching it all was Aya, who had given all she could. Her eyelids slowly closed, and she drifted away.

Rising. She was rising. Her eyes opened, and Aya gazed at Remira, crying above her battered body. Shruikan gave one last, inaudible roar, and fell, as his master had. His spirit began to float out of his body as well. Saphira wailed in agony at the loss of her Rider. She felt Eragon's presence above her. Arya lay crumpled by Shruikan's foot, but no spirit drifted from her. And Tony was staring at the wall. It was over.

No, it couldn't be over. _She_ wasn't over. Aya tried to swim down to her body. She flailed wildly, focused her energy downward, and tried to grip a chandelier shaft. Nothing.

At that, the spirit gave up, and all was white.

000…000…000

The elf awoke to beige. It was a nice break from the ubiquitous white. Just like…

Fabric.


End file.
